


Duxford And Douglas

by Altais4



Series: Dating Douglas [2]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Episode: s04e03 Vaduz, Episode: s04e05 Xinzhou, Friendship, Jealousy, M/M, Not So Established Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-01-10 17:23:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Altais4/pseuds/Altais4
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin and Douglas enjoy their first time as lovers at Parkside Terrace, though still coming to terms with their relationship. This is what happens when Martin meets a real princess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here is my attempt at the Douglas/Martin/Theresa love triangle. It takes place a few weeks after ‘Dating Douglas’.
> 
> Many thanks to Ianina for beta!

On the day of their flight to Vaduz, Martin awoke on his worn-out futon in the attic room at Parkside Terrace at dawn. This wasn’t noteworthy as such, except for the man lying beside him. 

Douglas was still sleeping. His mouth slightly opened, he made soft chortling noises with every second breath. Sometime during the night they must have discarded the blanket, because, now, Douglas lay sprawled all over it, taking up most of the room of the not so large mattress. Martin allowed himself a small smile. It was the first time Douglas stayed overnight at his place. 

Martin found it hard to believe, but they’d actually become sort of a couple. These days Douglas wouldn’t object too strongly when Carolyn booked them into one room. Or he invited Martin for dinner when there weren’t any MJN flights. Martin even got the benefit of Douglas’ oversized bathtub, complete with fluffy towels and all. He’d shyly suggested it one day after an especially demanding van job. Since then, it had become kind of a habit relaxing in there together.

And there was the sex, which still felt new and exiting. It was almost embarrassing how much Martin wanted it, or more precisely, how much he wanted it with Douglas. Two middle-aged men, colleagues, engaging in such things. There was cuddling, too, which, at times, Martin liked even better. Snuggling up on the sofa or in bed. A quick hug in the flight deck on the rare occasions they flew without cabin crew. Above all there were word games and teasing. Little bets that most likely ended with Martin on his knees. 

At that point Martin’s reminiscence came to an abrupt halt as he recalled the fake phone call from the Princess of Liechtenstein a few days previously. It had turned out to be no hoax at all. How could he possibly have forgotten? Their flight was booked for today. Martin closed his eyes and took some calming breaths to shut out the upcoming anxiety. He was still suffering from bouts of shame whenever he thought of that particular incident. 

At first, he’d been convinced that the so-called princess was one of Douglas’ many lady friends. Probably an ex-lover, judging by her rich, throaty voice and it had made him surprisingly jealous. But when she turned out to be genuine, oh God, he’d felt even worse. Douglas, being rather unaffected by his own faux pas, had mocked that Martin wouldn’t recognize a princess if she was handed to him on a plate. He was probably right. 

Martin exhaled deeply. He had a quick look at the alarm clock sitting upon his writing desk next to the old-fashioned computer screen. It was early still. Even if they were accommodating royalties later, they didn’t need to get up for at least an hour. Martin forced himself to remain still and listen to the birdsong.

He rather didn’t want to disturb Douglas, who loved to sleep late. But Martin was an early riser at heart, mainly due to his penchant for worrying. With the King and the Princess of Liechtenstein on his mind, he really wished to spend some extra time on grooming, among other things. 

Instead he cautiously lay on his side and settled on watching Douglas, his lover, as Martin reminded himself. Douglas stirred in his sleep, and then turned around until he was facing the wall opposite. On a sudden impulse, Martin edged a little closer. He reached out and let his hand glide softly along Douglas’ warm body, careful not to wake him. 

It were at these times, lying awake in the twilight, that Martin found their relationship the most peculiar. In the mornings, when the memory of their lovemaking began to fade and they transformed bit by bit into their usual selves again. Then he could do with a little hug. Or at least, carding his fingers through Douglas’ soft hair or stroking his cheek. Tiny touches to reassure himself that this thing between them was actually real. 

Martin sighed, resigning himself to the fact that he wouldn’t go back to sleep anymore. He got up, reached for his pyjama bottoms, and went to the small bathroom on the other side of the attic. 

***

When Martin returned, his teeth freshly brushed, the morning sun shone brightly through the skylights, bathing the bed and its sole occupant in golden light. 

“Hmm, Martin? Come ’ere,” Douglas mumbled from beneath the pillows. 

The sound of the muffled voice made Martin’s heart leap for joy. Quickly he closed the door, happy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He clambered back into bed and stretched out, before he turned over towards his lover. 

Instantly he was being hauled into strong arms. 

Martin looked up, half buried under Douglas’ solid figure, and stared into his smiling face. Douglas’ dark eyes were still half-lidded from sleep, which gave him his patented come-hither look. But Martin’s hungry gaze got caught by the lush lips, just inches away from his own, as if begging for a kiss. “Erm, good morning.”

Some tantalizing seconds Douglas hovered motionless as if memorizing every single feature of Martin’s upturned face. Martin got all fidgety at the unexpected scrutiny. He knew he was nothing much to look at, especially in the mornings. Eventually Douglas dropped a feather light kiss on his lips, barely touching. Martin bit back a whimper. 

“Eager, are we, sir?” Douglas growled, his deep voice sending shivers of pleasure down Martin’s spine. And then, finally, he placed his hands on either side of Martin’s head and plunged into a fiery kiss. 

With a sigh, Martin closed his eyes and opened his mouth to let Douglas in. He put his arms around him, pulling him downwards. Only now, he realised how much he’d been longing for this all morning. Douglas lowered himself carefully onto Martin’s body, the whole time sucking at his tongue. Martin wriggled to bring their groins together. 

Now with Martin being pinned down by Douglas’ weight, their kissing got even more heated, creating a most pressing sensation in Martin’s groin. At this rate, they’d need to do something else pretty soon. 

“Douglas?” Martin swallowed, never stopping the rhythmic movements of his lower body. “Shall I… erm?” He licked his lips in a manner he hoped to be suggestive, but probably just betrayed his nervousness. Then he turned his head away. Even if Douglas had been nothing but encouraging, he still was a little uncomfortable with offering sex. 

“No time,” Douglas rumbled into Martin’s exposed ear. “Remember, the princess.” And then he captured Martin’s mouth once more, leaving no room for him to go down whatsoever. 

Oh God, the princess. Martin had forgotten entirely, again. He pressed his lips together and tried to wriggle out from under Douglas. However, a moment later he felt a warm hand sneaking down into his pyjama bottoms. Martin gasped as Douglas enclosed his cock, rubbing the head gently, until all thoughts of royalty slipped away. 

Martin squeezed his eyes shut and grabbed the sheets to stop himself from squirming. Douglas was so very, very good at this, applying the exact amount of pressure Martin liked. Soon, Douglas had himself propped up on one elbow for better access, but Martin reached out and pulled him down again, craving the contact. 

God, he was so close, and Douglas was touching him all over. Martin felt as if he could go on and on forever, thrusting up, kissing soft lips, holding tight. “Oh God, don’t stop,” he moaned desperately. Seconds later, his world exploded, vision blurred by a million twinkling stars. 

Afterwards, he lay just there, panting, while he gazed at the rays of sunshine streaming in from the skylights above. With a deep sigh, Martin rolled over and snuggled up, pressing his cock against Douglas’ side for a last bit of friction. He let his hand roam in a soft caress, moving furtively downwards. “Douglas, do you like me to… please.”

“Shh, it’s getting late.” Douglas pulled Martin into a tight hug and held him for some time. Then he kissed him sloppily on the lips before he sat up rather reluctantly. 

“Oh God, the King and the Princess of Liechtenstein.” Martin let his head fall back in frustration. Just at the mention of their illustrious passengers, he felt heat of an entirely different kind creeping up his body. His nervous tension was back with full force. Bracing himself, he grabbed a tissue and then pulled up his pyjama bottoms. “Do you like to shower?” 

“Hmm,” Douglas mused. “I do have various promising ideas about you, I and the admittedly limited space of your shower stall.” Smirking, he continued picking up his discarded clothes. 

“Douglas!” Martin blushed furiously, recalling their recent activities in Douglas’ bathtub. 

“Ah, I rather like that particular brand of Crieff red,” Douglas purred. Then he became serious again. “Thank you, Martin, but I’ll have to go home anyway, since I left my uniform there.” 

“Oh… Okay.” Martin nodded. They hadn’t discussed this beforehand, but he felt a twinge of disappointment, especially since this was their first time here. Douglas was right though, they had to get ready. “I’ll make us some coffee,” he offered. 

***

Martin hurried down the stairs, anxious not to detain Douglas any longer. He was feeling a bit bad about him not coming, too. Not that they were counting, but Douglas had proven to be a much more generous lover than Martin had ever expected. Or not expected. Truth be told, he’d had next to no expectations, when they’d started this. But due to their somewhat rough beginning, Martin hadn’t been quite aware of Douglas’ giving nature.

At this hour, Martin had the shared kitchen all to himself. He ignored the overall messiness of the place and began searching the cupboards for two mugs and his jar of instant coffee, still in a daze from their lovemaking earlier. With a goofy smile on his lips, he went over to the crowded sink and started rinsing. It had been a long time since anyone had stayed overnight.

It had felt quite natural, too. They’d had baked potatoes for dinner since Douglas was insistent on tasting this culinary highlight. To Martin’s great surprise, he prepared a very nice topping of chicken in cream sauce and even brought some wine. In the end, it turned out to be one of the best meals Martin ever had at this place. And, for the very first time, he’d felt truly at home. 

“Huh, the pilot from the attic. Rough night, too?”

Startled out of his reverie, Martin wheeled around. One of the older students, Daniel or Danny as he vaguely recalled, was leaning against the doorframe. With his puffy eyes, he looked like he’d just gotten out of bed and in desperate need of a shower. 

“What do you mean?” Martin blushed as he concentrated on drying off the mugs. Surely, there was no way of Danny knowing what Douglas and him had been up to… sexually. 

“The old chap, he stayed overnight, didn’t he?” Daniel smirked, indicating Martin’s two mugs on his way to the fridge. He took out some milk and drank it in huge gulps straight from the bottle.

“Having guests is officially permitted, as you of all people should know,” Martin shot back, growing defensive. And, truly, he’d long lost count of all those ’friends’ staying for the night. 

“Ouch, too much wine?” Daniel asked sympathetically. 

“No, in fact... erm…” Martin bristled, and then he caught himself. Because it dawned on him that he’d absolutely no idea what the agricultural students’ attitude towards homosexuality was. Or, come think of it, towards being in love with an older man. 

At his pained expression, Danny’s grin got even broader. 

“Well, maybe a bit too much. We… were… celebrating,” Martin stammered, struggling for the right words. Oh God. Drinking rather was the perfect excuse for Douglas spending the night. Even if it felt completely inappropriate given their profession. “He’s a pilot, too. And a good friend,” he added for good measure.

“Hey, chill!” Daniel murmured. “You know what my dad says. They all drink like fish, these mighty airline captains, because the job is so boring.”

“Drinking? Boring?” Martin exclaimed, suddenly trembling with anger. “I’m an airline captain, too… and Douglas is my… my first officer… and no alcoholic. And for your information, today we’re flying his Royal Highness the King of Liechtenstein.” 

Daniel’s flabbergasted expression looked almost comical. He held his hands up in mock-defence and shuffled off, muttering under his breath. Martin let out a sigh of relief. At that moment, he spotted Douglas standing in the doorway. Quickly he looked away, feeling mortified all of a sudden. 

“Well, Martin, that shriek of yours was impressive,” Douglas drawled as he walked up to the worktop. He looped his hands around Martin’s middle and hugged him from behind. “Maybe you could save it for later when we’ll have to rescue the princess from the dragon,” he whispered in his ear.

“Douglas, the students!” Martin hissed, still upset. “Everyone can see us.” He made a half-hearted attempt to wriggle out of the embrace. However, when Douglas refused to let go, Martin began to relax, almost against his will. Eventually he leaned back and snuggled up to the warm body. 

They drank their coffee in silence after that. From time to time, Martin shot a furtive glance at Douglas, who seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. Martin wondered if someday this would become easier. He sighed. Maybe it was just as well that they didn’t have time for a proper breakfast.

Shortly after, Douglas put their dirty mugs in the sink and they arranged to meet at the airfield in an hour. In the hallway they said goodbye with a quick hug and peck on the lips. It was a relief to Martin that they couldn’t be observed from the windows. Kissing Douglas in front of the students, especially Danny, still felt inexplicably wrong. 

However, when the front door finally snapped shut, a boyish grin flashed over Martin’s face. In a few hours time, they’d fly to Vaduz. Out of the blue, he got all giddy with excitement.

***

Later in his attic room, after a rushed shower and dressing, Martin stooped down to open the bottom drawer of his writing desk. It took him some time to sort through the assortment of jewellery boxes, containing an old pocket watch from his grandfather, a pair of cufflinks, as well as some coins of no real value. At last, he found the slim case he was searching for and took it out. 

Martin went over to the window for better light. Irresolutely he fiddled with the clasp for some time, realising that Douglas would tease him for this forever. Then, coming to a decision, he flipped the lid open. It was proper protocol after all. 

Inside the box lay two medals, their ribbons carefully draped to prevent them from wrinkling. As he shifted the box towards the window, the bigger of the two, his Millennium Star, gleamed radiantly in the morning sun. Martin’s heartbeat quickened. 

Gently he extricated both medals from their nest of fake velvet and polished them with a soft cloth. Then he pocketed them in his uniform jacket and cast a last look around the bedroom. Everything was fine. Smiling absently, Martin grabbed the flight bag and donned his captain’s hat. 

He was ready to meet the princess.


	2. Chapter 2

Standing next to their cars, Martin and Douglas watched Carolyn and Herc fussing over Princess Theresa and the little King of Liechtenstein. Martin had to suppress a smile. It was such a rare sight that his spirits lifted almost on their own accord, even if he was still worked up about the whole fuel and flying in circles thing. 

Douglas hadn’t been of much help today. For someone, who was supposedly in love with him, he’d been enjoying himself rather a lot at Martin’s predicament. So, in the end Theresa had saved the day. The way she’d faced down Carolyn – Martin was still very much in awe of her. Beyond that, she was such a nice person, who wanted to see him again.

“She really liked me, don’t you think?” he asked, in his mind’s eye still with the princess. He could hardly believe that he’d been this lucky for once.

“Did she now? Possibly you’re right, because she just asked you out on a date,” Douglas’ sarcastic voice cut right through his happy bubble. He didn’t seem to be too impressed by their royal passengers.

“It’s not a date, just a little thank you,” Martin returned flippantly. But he couldn’t help the grin that spread all over his face.

By now, a sleek BMW with tinted windows had arrived and Theresa ushered aloof King Maxi inside, who seemed to persist on ignoring all annoying commoners. When Theresa got in at last, she turned around for a brief second and her face lit into a dazzling smile as she waved the two pilots goodbye. 

“So Douglas, tonight?” Martin asked, still staring at the spot where the car with the princess had left moments ago. He vaguely remembered Douglas promising to cook steak for dinner. And maybe… maybe they might do something interesting afterwards. “Erm… your place?” 

“Good Lord no, I’m not in the mood anymore,” Douglas groused as he checked his wristwatch. “After sitting in a tin can, going round and round in circles over Fitton airfield for hours, I could do with some company for a change.” 

“Oh God, I’m so sorry for this, but I said we needed 3000 litres,” Martin stuttered. With Theresa on board time had flown by. But they were hours late. “What would you like us to do? Grab some takeaway and… and snuggle up on the sofa?”

Douglas shot a weary glance at him. “No, Martin, I have a better idea. Let’s go to the pub.” 

”The pub. O-Okay.” Martin’s heart dropped. He’d rather hoped for something more intimate. Douglas seemed to be serious though, so silently Martin nodded his assent.

“And do me a favour, Martin. Take these tawdry medals down.” 

Martin froze at the flat tone. Hastily he looked down at his jacket and caught sight of the Star of Liechtenstein, jingling merrily among the others. “Theresa liked my decorations,” he said defiantly.

“Well.” Douglas just stared. 

“Yes, she did. She even awarded me with the highest honour,” he kept on bravely. At the sight of Douglas’ contemptuous look, though, Martin’s confidence melted away like snow in the sun. “God, you’re right. She was making fun of me. I’ll take them down.” 

With shaking hands, he fumbled with the pins and shoved the medals unceremoniously into his jacket pocket. He had no idea what had gotten into Douglas. You’d almost think he was jealous of Theresa. But that didn’t make any sense at all. Because Douglas knew very well that he wasn’t really interested in girls. Besides, on board G-ERTI he’d rather complimented him on his conquest. 

Suddenly something else occurred to Martin and his heart sank even more. “You… you had good company, in the flight deck I mean. We were on hold together, flying around in circles, weren’t we?” he blurted. 

For a moment Douglas remained silent. Then, all at once, a predatory smile played on his lips. “Yes, Martin, we were. But given the circumstances, you were in no position to do anything to make my journey sweeter,” he smirked, looking pointedly at Martin’s crotch.

“Oh, oh.” Martin let out a shaky breath, torn between embarrassment and relief. He should have known better. Douglas had been teasing him all along. Thank God, he was so predictable sometimes. 

***

They drove to the pub in separate cars. It was already crowded when Martin arrived, but Douglas had miraculously secured an empty booth at the back. Martin sighed with relief as he spotted him through the throng of people. The alternative – standing at the bar, with Douglas chatting to complete strangers – made him invariably feel like the odd one out. 

Douglas offered to go for the first round. Martin slid into his seat and watched him moving through the crowd with practised ease, catching the bartender’s attention at the first try. Suddenly he felt like an idiot. Because this was where Douglas belonged. Going out and socializing, rather than being stuck at home with a clumsy boyfriend. In fact, Martin had known this right from the start. 

Then his thoughts wandered towards Theresa and, again, he relived her shouting match with Carolyn. Martin sighed happily. Maybe his bad luck had changed after all. Because there was something about her that made him feel good, even in the most awkward situations.

“Nice place,” he murmured when Douglas arrived with the drinks. And it really was. The customers seemed to be mostly professionals going out for a drink or a meal after work. Just the place he might invite Theresa to if he had the money for once. 

The blackboard with today’s specials reminded him of something. “Douglas, you said you don’t like greasy pub food,” he said, frowning.

“That’s not true, Martin. Now and then it’s not too bad.” Douglas looked pensive for a moment. “What I don’t like is that it reminds me of my single times between the wives. But by happy coincidence this is no issue anymore.” He regarded Martin with a level look.

“Erm, no it isn’t.” Martin swallowed nervously. Douglas with all his stewardesses had never struck him as the lonely type. And now, they had this… this relationship going on. Douglas didn’t need to be alone. If he would have him, Martin wouldn’t go anywhere. 

Tentatively he let his hand slide over the polished wood of the table. Then he raised his eyes and a shy smile flashed over Martin’s face as he brushed the back of Douglas’ hand with his fingertips. 

***

Halfway through their meal Douglas paused, considering. “So Martin, the princess. Why for heaven’s sake do you think this isn’t a date?”

“What?” Martin needed a moment to compose himself. Had he been staring? Then he realised that Douglas was talking about Theresa. “She’s just friendly,” he hastened to explain. “Basically, this trip was her idea. S-She literally rescued me from a dragon, remember.” 

With renewed interest, Martin concentrated on his fish and chips. A nice woman wished to spend time with him. Why was is so important what it was called? “It’s not a date,” he repeated steadfastly. “I haven’t even been on a real date with you. We both know I’d be rubbish at that sort of thing.” 

With a pounding heart, Martin thought of all those evenings making out on Douglas’ sofa. So very different from the cliché of romantic outings with lyrical declarations of love. He darted a furtive glance at Douglas’ sensuous lips before he quickly averted his eyes. 

“Don’t sell yourself cheap,” Douglas cool voice interrupted this train of thoughts. 

“But that’s the point,” Martin exclaimed, becoming more and more agitated. “I’m cheap or everything I do has to be. I haven’t been in a real relationship for ages, because… well, erm… I wouldn’t even know how to.” All this talk about real dating. He’d rather thought that they were happy with what they had. 

But Douglas didn’t seem to pay attention anymore. He gave Martin a penetrating look. “Duxford, really Martin? It’s a bit a dream of yours, this air museum. You know we could go there, too. Just the two of us,” he demanded. 

„It wouldn’t be the same with you,” Martin stammered. “Don’t you see? She’s really interested in aviation. She wanted to be a pilot.” Douglas had to understand. 

“Ah.” 

“Yes, and you are a pilot. I know, I know.” Martin squirmed at Douglas’ sarcastic tone. “You’d probably just show me all the ridiculous places where you had sex with all those contestants of the London Marathon you’re so proud of.” 

“That’s not true, Martin.” Douglas exclaimed, sounding genuinely hurt.

“No, maybe not.” Martin conceded, a bit ashamed of his outburst. However, in a way, he’d told the truth. He’d never asked Douglas out to the air museum, or anything else that mattered, out of fear that he’d ridicule it. “I-I wasn’t aware that Duxford mattered to you,” he murmured softly. 

“Good Lord, no, it’s not Duxford as such that matters,“ Douglas desisted. 

Martin had to process this for a moment. “So it’s okay that I’ll go with her?” he asked nervously. He’d rather not cancel it at the last minute.

“By all means, Martin. Don’t let me stand in your way,” Douglas drawled. Then he said in a more neutral tone, “Will you take her with the van to Duxford?”

Martin shook his head, relieved at the change of topic. “Well, no. She has her own car and driver. We’ll meet at the museum at ten,” he answered a bit pompously.

“Aha. And why don’t you go with her in a luxury car with a driver?” Douglas enquired.

That question, unexpectedly, made Martin smile, since he had the perfect answer for once. “Because then, it would be really a date, don’t you think?” he said.

 

***

They left the pub shortly afterwards. As Martin stepped out onto the pavement, fragments of their odd conversation about Theresa and relationships were still floating around his head. He looked at Douglas questioningly. “Erm, it’s getting late. Shall we go to yours?” 

When no answer was coming forth, either teasingly or otherwise, Martin’s heartbeat quickened in alarm. Suddenly all this talk about dating felt acutely real. As if Douglas had asked him out to the pub and, now, Martin was hoping to be invited back to him. “Douglas?” he prompted. 

“I think you’ll better go home. It’s your big day tomorrow. I’m sure you have some clothes to press. Medals to polish.” Douglas said in a carefully neutral tone. 

“Douglas! I’m not going out with my medals. It’s not an official occasion,” Martin hissed, momentarily distracted. But then his shoulders sacked and he couldn’t look Douglas into the eyes. Because he wasn’t welcome. In a flash of insight, Martin realised that this, rather than the greasy food, had been Douglas’ main reason for choosing the pub all along. 

“Oh, come on, Martin. It’s no big deal. I just need a night to myself. You won’t even miss me,” Douglas’ appeasing voice penetrated his fog of misery. 

“One night only?” Martin hiccupped.

Instead of an answer Douglas pulled him into a quick hug. For a moment, they both remained still, holding each other in a close embrace. Then Douglas turned around and, without looking back, began slowly walking away in direction of his car. 

Martin stood frozen on the spot, staring, as his lover disappeared amidst the crowd of passers-by. Just one night. Martin took a steadying breath. But suddenly everything seemed so unreal. One minute they were sitting in the pub, really talking, and now… he had his attic room all to himself. 

Martin tried to clear his head. At this point, he knew only one thing for certain. He wouldn’t have minded kissing Douglas openly in public at all.


	3. Chapter 3

That night Martin had the strangest dream. 

He was in India and lived in the palace of the Sultan. Douglas was the Sultan, obviously, clad in splendid silk clothes and a turban. He looked good. When he wasn’t enjoying the salacious pleasures of the harem, he spent most of his time in the magnificent throne room, ruling the sultanate with benign power. 

The Sultan had fallen in love with Martin – as Sultans sometimes do when the fancy strikes them – and he wished for him to become his lover. Martin had to be with the Sultan all the time. Walking around half-naked, fulfilling his every need and desire. Even accompanying him to the harem, with all those beautiful girls courting for the Sultan’s attention.

But there was a lovely foreign lady in the palace, too. Theresa was very brave. She went on a dangerous mission into the mountains to rescue her little brother, who had been abducted by the Sheikh of Qatar. Martin had to follow her, even if that meant to leave the Sultan. 

So Martin set out all alone. When the night came, he got lost in the mountains. In a flash he saw Theresa waiting for him at some ancient gravesite for elephants… or aeroplanes? He also saw Douglas, still splendid in his palace, pretending that he didn’t miss him. Desperately Martin stumbled forward through the darkness. The way was blocked by huge rocks and Martin started panicking. He tried to climb over them, nearly lost his balance, didn’t dare going backwards… and… woke up with a start.

Martin sat up, his heart hammering wildly. God, that had been vivid. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head to get rid of the images. Douglas as the Sultan, that was just like him. He didn't need to be Freud to analyse that. And himself as the scanty-clad lover, for all the world to see. Not so very different from real life.

Slightly embarrassed, Martin recalled how self-conscious he had been, just the previous morning. How important it had been that Danny didn’t find out about Douglas and him. Sometimes, though, he just didn’t feel up to it… being that much on display. Like his counterpart in the dream. 

Martin sighed, because the Sultan – or should he say Douglas – with his great physique and overflowing self-confidence, could be rather a lot to take. Martin found it already hard enough admitting being gay, as it was. In that respect he was nothing like Douglas, who didn’t need to commit to anything, because he could always fall back upon his harem of stewardesses.

Oh God, all those beautiful girls – Martin would never get used to them. Groaning, he closed his eyes to fight of the looming headache. 

This night had been awful, really. The dream was only the last one of many. Douglas’ unexpected rebuff yesterday had come as a serious shock. That he would send him away so coolly, almost without an explanation. Martin buried his head in his hands. Sometimes, he felt like a five-year-old in dealing with Douglas. 

After a while, he glanced at his alarm clock, realising that it was time to get up. Reluctantly Martin thrust the blanket aside and started collecting his clothes. As he reached for his light-blue shirt, hanging at the peg behind the door, his cheeks reddened. He’d already pressed it last night, just as Douglas had mockingly suggested. But what else should he have done? He had to look decent when he was going out with Theresa to Duxford.

At this instant, Martin caught sight of his mobile phone and a sudden surge of hope shot through him. What if Douglas had been trying to call? With trembling fingers, Martin laid down the shirt and reached for it. Shortly after, his stomach sank with disappointment. No calls – just as he’d feared. Martin took a deep breath and put the phone away. If he wished to enjoy this trip, he needed to pull himself together soon.

***

In the bathroom Martin placed his pile of clothes on the toilet lid, since it was the only space available, and shrugged out off his pyjama bottoms. He turned the shower on and adjusted the temperature until it was warm. Then he stepped inside. 

Martin sighed with relief as the soothing rain of hot water fell down on him. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the comforting, prickling sensation. Maybe the situation with Douglas wasn’t as bad as he’d initially thought. He grabbed the soap and, taking his time, worked it into a lather before he smoothed it all over his body. Sweeping away the tension from the night. 

Just one night to himself, Douglas had said. In the light of day, that seemed almost reasonable. It didn’t mean that Douglas didn’t want him anymore. Perhaps, Martin thought excitedly, that was what his unconscious mind had been trying to tell him with his dream. The Sultan had been rather passionate – making his stomach flutter at the memory. Generally the symbolism of dreams was pretty much lost on Martin, but today it felt almost comforting losing himself in the images. 

When his roaming hands reached his cock, Martin lingered some more, touching himself. God, Douglas in his palace, immersed in his own world of magnificence, that had been quite a sight. No sorrows, no regrets there. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad putting on a fancy dress and becoming the boy toy of a Sultan. 

In his imagination, Martin reclined on a heap of silk cushions. Right now, these hands could be Douglas’ ones, enclosing his cock, brushing softly. Or, even better, taking him in with moist lips. Hot and wet, messaging him with his tongue. Oh God, Martin just knew that Douglas would be wonderful at this, sucking him. For once, doing all the work… and Martin sliding in and out... His breath hitched. He was getting so close. 

Then his mind strayed towards the palace, again. This time, Theresa was there, too, beseeching him to go away with her. Both of them, Douglas and her, wanting him, needing… Oh God, Theresa! Abruptly Martin let go of his cock as if being burnt. This was so wrong, pleasuring himself while he was thinking of her. She should be treated with more respect. Martin slumped against the cool tiles of the shower, shaking. His cock needed the attention so badly, but he mustn’t go on.

In a haze of guilt, he rinsed off the soap and shampoo, his erection deflating. Then he stumbled out of the shower, grabbed the first towel available and dried up with brisk strokes. The stupid dream had it all wrong, anyway, Martin thought warily. Because it wasn’t Theresa who needed the rescuing but him. And after yesterday evening, Martin didn’t know what Douglas wanted at all. 

God, he’d made an idiot of himself – in the dream, as well as in real life. Stumbling through some rocks, all on his own. Instead of trusting that Douglas would understand. Explaining why this trip mattered so much to him. Because Martin loved the air museum, and up until now there had never been anyone to share it with. In fact, he'd actually tried to tell Douglas that. But somehow the whole talk had turned into an inane conversation about dates. 

Still panting, Martin came to a decision. There was no use in cancelling the date at the very last moment. It would only upset Theresa. He would meet her as planned at Duxford today and then talk to Douglas afterwards. Martin heaved a sigh; he felt a bit calmer now.

***

As he slid into the driver’s seat of his van, Martin had a last look at his mobile. No new messages, he registered with a pang of hurt. He'd rather hoped that Douglas might have cooled down by now. Then he remembered that today was Saturday, meaning that Douglas was probably still asleep, and he relaxed somewhat. 

Staring at the deserted street, Martin toyed briefly with the idea of calling Douglas nevertheless. Waking him up for a quick good morning and goodbye. But in the end, he discarded the plan almost right away. Because, like last night, he would just stutter something unintelligible and make it even worse. 

No, they’d talk later, in person. Martin turned off the phone and started-up the engine.


	4. Chapter 4

Martin arrived on time at the Imperial War Museum at ten, but even so Theresa was already waiting for him at the entrance. At the sight of her slender outline, Martin’s mouth went suddenly dry with nerves and he felt a little fluttering sensation in his chest. Automatically he lifted a hand in greeting as he lengthened his stride. In her nice blouse and pencil skirt, with her long wavy hair gleaming in the sun, she looked lovely. 

“So, how is my captain?” Theresa asked, charming foreign accent still in place, when they were finally face to face. “Shall we go in?”

“Very well… and erm… yes,” Martin stuttered, practically glowing at the address. Flustered, he turned around to hide his reddening cheeks and fled towards the box office. The tickets here cost a fortune, but in Martin’s opinion they were worth every penny of it, especially today, when he was in such stunning company. 

“Duxford is Britain’s largest aviation museum. There are six hangars and exhibits about both civil and military aviation history,” he explained when he got back with the tickets. “What would you like to see first?”

“Oh, let’s see,” Theresa took the brochure, considering the question seriously. “The Concorde, I think. I’ve always wanted to fly in a supersonic aircraft. 

“It’s one of my favourites, too,” Martin exclaimed excitedly. “The 101 G-AXDN reached 1450 mph on a test flight in Tangier. That’s just over…”

“… hmm… twice the speed of sound. Well, that is impressive,” Theresa acknowledged. Then, with a mischievous smile playing on her lips, she linked arms with Martin. “Good, that’s decided then. Let’s go.”

“O-Okay, it’s this way to the AirSpace exhibition hall,” Martin stammered, rather overwhelmed by the sudden closeness. 

They set off at a gentle pace, Theresa’s hand now resting comfortably in the crook of his arm. For a moment Martin wondered what Douglas might think if he could see him like this. The two of them had rarely touched openly in public so far, let alone walking hand in hand. It still made Martin uneasy, since they were both men, and he suspected that Douglas felt the same. With Theresa it was nice, though, in its own peculiar way.

Regaining confidence, Martin cleared his throat. “The 101 made it in record time across the Atlantic. Record time for a commercial aircraft, obviously. That was in…”

“…1974. Yes, I know. As I said the Concorde is my favourite.” 

“God, you’re right. I’m boring you with common knowledge,” Martin apologised with a nervous little laugh. He found it really hard to concentrate, with her walking at his side, touching. “Erm… they used double delta shaped wings to optimise flight at high-speed, and a computer controlled variable engine air intake system…” 

“ … and thrust-by-wire engines,” Theresa chimed in serenely. 

“How is it possible that you know so much about aeroplanes?” Stunned, Martin let Theresa’s hand drop and stared at her in wonder. “I mean you’re just a layperson. Did you have flying lessons, after all?”

“Well no,” Theresa said with a small, nervous shrug. She didn’t look so happy now. “I wasn’t allowed, because of the security risk. As if one princess out of six would matter.”

“Not allowed… as a royal,” Martin stuttered incredulously. He’d always assumed that princesses could do anything they liked. She even lived in the fairytale castle of Vaduz. “So you really weren’t allowed to fly?” He could hardly imagine anything worse.

“No, Martin, I’m not as lucky as you are. I’ve just read all the books on theory,” Theresa murmured. 

“But I did that, too,” Martin rushed in, emphatically. “There’s nothing wrong with that. I mean it is important. Its just people like Douglas who ignore it all.” Then he fell abruptly silent. God, where did Douglas’ name come from, all of a sudden? On the journey here, he’d resolved not to spoil the day with brooding about him. 

“Douglas, is he the other pilot, the older one?” Theresa asked surprised. She looked him up and down curiously, sensing the change of mood. “Is he so annoying?”

“Well, sometimes he is,” Martin sighed. Then, as he viewed her friendly face, it came to his mind that she’d called him lucky again. Maybe it was the truth, after all, and he was just too dense to see it. Feeling slightly cheered, he announced, “Let’s go to the AirSpace.” 

***

The Concorde seemed even bigger in real life. Martin had seen it before, naturally, but for a supersonic jet its sheer size still managed to amaze him. Inside, the seats had been partly removed to make room for visitors and display cases. This, as well as the dim lighting and the old fashioned design, contributed to an almost eerie atmosphere. It was hard to imagine that this ‘tin can’, using one of Douglas’ favourite expressions, had once flown across the Atlantic in 2 hrs 56 minutes.

“Look, it’s possible to visit the flight deck,” Theresa exclaimed, startling Martin out of his musings. She stood on tiptoe as she peeked into it, gesturing excitedly. “Imagine being in control of all this.” 

“God, I think only the best were allowed… ,” Martin murmured as he slipped past Theresa through the narrow passageway full of electronics. With a heartfelt sigh, he sat down in the captain’s seat. He doubted that even Douglas would have passed the rigorous tests to get a licence. 

“But Martin, I’ve always wanted to be the captain.” Theresa had been following him on his heels and was now standing in the small space between the seats, sounding subdued. 

“Me too,” Martin said automatically as he studied the controls. It was amazing how sophisticated they were. Then he looked up at her and blushed. “Erm… force of habit, I believe. O-Of course you’ll be our captain.” 

“Thank you, Martin.” Theresa gave his shoulder a tiny squeeze. 

“No problem.” Martin got up in a hurry and they swapped places in a slight tangle of limbs. As he watched Theresa sitting down, gripping the yoke, a fond smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. It was surprising how much her genuine joy cheered him. Martin cleared his throat and said, ”First officer or captain, it’s all the same to me. As long as you are happy and have a chance to fly.” At that moment he actually meant it. 

“See Martin, I knew it from the very beginning,” Theresa said earnestly. “You are quite different from other men.”

“So?” Martin’s head shot up. Strangely enough, the one thing that sprang to his mind was their awkward first meeting at Vaduz Castle, yesterday. With Arthur bowing to her and him clinking with his medals. Douglas had been the only one who hadn’t made an idiot of himself. “D-Different in a good way?” 

“Well, for one thing, you’re not so stuffed up and formal,” Theresa turned around and looked at him intently. “Being a pilot means more to you than the privileges of a shiny uniform. I like that very much.”

“Y-Yes?” She was right, wasn’t she? It was just Douglas who failed to understand his real motivation for insisting on proper protocol. That it was solely for safety reasons. Martin leaned towards her, heart thumping, anxious not to miss a word. 

“With the others, it’s all about status and money,” she said angrily. “I mean you’ve met Maxi. My family encourages him, in fact. And it’s not just common among royals.” 

“Don’t tell me…” Martin lowered his voice to a confidential whisper. “Can you believe that Douglas pretended to be the captain of MJN Air in the presence of his wife for years. He even changed into his old uniform jacket from Air England, the one with four gold bars at the sleeve, every time he went home.” 

”Oh.” Theresa looked at him strangely. “You’re right. That sounds odd.” 

“Erm… I think I wasn’t supposed to tell you this,” Martin stuttered as he realised what he’d just revealed. All of a sudden, the atmosphere in the flight deck felt almost claustrophobic. He didn’t mean to betray Douglas’ secrets. “He isn’t doing it anymore. They got divorced in the end.” 

Theresa seemed to mull over this for a while, her eyes never turning away from his face. Then she leaned even closer. “Tell me, Martin. If you don’t fall for a shiny title or a uniform? What kind of person would you fall in love with?” 

“What?” Martin spluttered, heart hammering wildly. That was rather private – he had no idea what to say. Desperately he stared at the instrument panel for help. However, all he could think of was Douglas, sitting next to him in G-ERTI. “Erm, an interest in aviation would be nice. Because I talk about it rather a lot. And… maybe not too young.”

“And is that all?” Theresa asked teasingly.

“Well, and…” Martin exhaled deeply, “…it should be someone I find attractive, s-sexually and otherwise.” With that he broke off and closed his eyes, wishing the ground would open and swallowing him whole.

Just then, he felt a soft hand laying down on his own, brushing gently. “Oh, Martin, you are really sweet,” Theresa said with laughter in her voice. “What do you think? Shall we move on and see the DH Comet next?” 

***

Much later, they were sitting outside on a park bench, enjoying the late afternoon sun. The whole trip had gone astoundingly well and not just because of the wide range of aviation related exhibits they’d visited, Martin reflected with amazement. Theresa was the first woman he could easily talk to. Even when she was making fun of him, which she did from time to time, it felt warmhearted, as if she was respecting him all the same. 

“Thank you for the lovely day, Martin. I’ve never met anybody who knew that much about aeroplanes,” Theresa said with a hint of a smile. “And who knows, getting to know a certain airline captain better, might be almost as good as becoming one myself.” 

“Oh, I would like that, too,” Martin retorted eagerly, trying and failing to suppress a blush. But it happened so rarely that anybody complimented him at all. Something was nagging him, though, ever since they’d come together here in the morning. “What about Douglas?” he blurted.

“Douglas?”

Martin sighed. “Sometimes I wonder about him. What it takes to make him happy? I mean truly happy. For you and me it’s flying, obviously."

"Yes... and?" she prompted.

Martin shook his head. This was so hard to explain. "He... he is a much better pilot than I am. He was captain for a big airline. And then there are his three ex-wives and all those stewardesses in between. What could possibly top that?” Surely not the skinny, ginger pilot, he pondered with a touch of desperation. He’d rather not admit it, but once in a while he suspected that their whole relationship was just very convenient for Douglas. 

“Martin?” Theresa nudged him gently.

“Hmm.” Martin looked up and squinted into the sun. He knew he was getting maudlin. 

“Martin listen,” Theresa said sternly. “To me, his story sounds rather sad. Pretending to be captain to impress his wife. Don’t you think it’s pathetic? Maybe he wants something completely different.”

“What? Not becoming captain again?” Martin couldn’t think of anything Douglas wanted more.

“Well, maybe that, too,” Theresa said laughing before she continued more seriously. “No, I mean finding someone who takes him as he is. Someone who knows his flaws. And believe me he has them, like all of us.” 

“Oh.” He had never seen it like this. But, well, there were the smuggling and the alcoholism. Martin knew of all that. And Douglas certainly didn't go to great length to impress him. It was true that they didn't talk much, or not much about things that mattered, anyway. But they were comfortable together, homely. “Y-You could be right.” 

“Sometimes all one needs is someone who is there for you, Martin. I’m sure that applies even to your mentor Douglas.”

At that Martin recalled yesterday morning – Douglas and him, standing together at the worktop in the kitchen at Parkside Terrace. The way Douglas had soothed him after he’d lost it with Danny. He’d known exactly what Martin needed then, even without talking. Maybe that was it and there was more to their relationship than… the obvious. 

At Martin’s preoccupied expression, Theresa nudged him again and took his hand into hers. “Come on, let’s stop talking about other men in uniforms. I‘m quite happy with the one next to me.” 

***

Shortly after, they were standing in front of the entrance gates, smiling at each other, while putting off the final goodbye. Theresa’s car was already waiting, but she seemed rather reluctant to get in. Martin fidgeted nervously with his hands, uncertain what to say. He wondered briefly what Douglas might do in the same situation. However, it felt strangely inappropriate to think of him now.

“Good bye, I-I have your number,” Martin said eventually, patting the jacket pocket where he’d tucked his mobile in. Then, gathering his courage, he stepped forward and embraced Theresa in an abrupt hug. 

With a little sigh, she moved closer, staring up into his eyes. Hoping to get it right, Martin turned his head just in time to offer his cheek for a kiss. Theresa’s lips felt soft, making his breath hitch and his heart flutter. Hastily he let go.

When he glanced at her afterwards, Theresa looked a bit lost, and for an alarming second Martin dreaded he’d done something wrong. Without thinking he leaned in and hugged her once again. This time he held her tight, until she finally disentangled herself from the embrace. 

“Oh Martin,” Theresa said a little breathless, looking much happier now. “See you.” 

A warm fuzzy feeling began to unfurl in the pit of Martin's stomach. Against all odds, Theresa felt like a good friend and a rather affectionate one at that. Martin watched her climbing into the car, in his mind already reliving this extraordinary day.

Now, he just had to resolve matters with Douglas.


	5. Chapter 5

The blinds of Douglas’ bedroom were lowered halfway, letting the late afternoon light filter through, whilst effectively obstructing the view of the two naked men lying entwined on the spacious bed. Breaking up long minutes of intensive kissing, Martin disengaged himself from the warm body beneath him and began to move slowly downwards, sucking in his bottom lip in anticipation. After a stressful week in and out of Wokingham, this was their first real chance to spend time together. The first time since… well, since Theresa. With his mother ill, though, there had been other things on their minds. 

Already flushed, Martin arranged himself between Douglas’ legs, letting his hands roam and then rest lightly on the hips. “I’ll try… ,” he murmured. Then, collecting himself, he leaned in and tightened his lips around Douglas’ cock, carefully sliding forward, until the slick length was bumping against the back of his throat. He swallowed hard, relishing the delicious feel of closeness. 

“Good Lord, Martin… keep on.” Douglas let out an appreciative moan, strengthening his grip on Martin’s head, spurring him on. Heart thumping, Martin tried hard to hold the position a little longer, instinctively moving back and forth, using his tongue. But the unyielding cock in his mouth made him cough despite all his attempts at self-control and, spluttering, he had to let go. 

“One moment, I need just one moment.” Panting, Martin slumped down on the mattress as he filled his lungs in a quick succession of shallow breaths. After a while, he nuzzled his cheek against Douglas’ thigh, coarse hair tickling, his gaze drifting idly around the bedroom. Martin loved being here. 

At first, he’d expected this place to be pretentious, befitting a woman as beautiful and refined as Helena. Something for a trophy wife. However it… it felt personal. Sometimes, Martin imagined Douglas and Helena together in here, being in what he conceived as a real relationship. Waking up together, cuddling, laughing; just ordinary things. It hurt, even if it was all in the past. Because being with one’s own wife made all the difference, Martin was sure of that. 

“Oh come on.” Douglas was nudging him in the ribs as a not so subtle reminder to keep going. Blushing, Martin got up and brought himself in position again, inwardly resolved to give Douglas something the beautiful Helena never would. Then he bent down and swallowed the cock without fuss. His own arousal flared up at the sudden contact of lips and tongue with warm, salty skin. Instantly, he began working the shaft thoroughly and lovingly.

“Oh yes… go on.” Douglas buried his hands in Martin’s curls in a now familiar gesture and wriggled himself in a more comfortable position. Martin’s heartbeat quickened. He steadied himself on the mattress as he let the intruding cock slide further down his throat and then out again. Once in a while, trying to spice it up with some careful sucking motions of his own. 

Soon, Martin was loosing himself in the hypnotic rhythm of precisely timed thrusts and sucks. Smooth movements, only interrupted by a little gagging or choking. Getting the most out of the experience, as Douglas sardonically would say. Breathing heavily, he tensed his muscles and doubled his efforts. This time, he wanted to make it as good as possible for Douglas. 

The first burst of semen hitting his throat left Martin shuddering and jerking. Rigidly he held onto Douglas’ hips as he gulped everything down. Then he let go of the deflating cock in his mouth and scrambled up to his knees to make quick work of himself. In his state of arousal, all Martin needed were a few tugs, and then he was spluttering come all over. For once, he didn’t care about the mess. Feeling thoroughly shaken, he gingerly laid down on Douglas’ soft belly.

“That was…oh… ,” Martin closed his eyes, waiting for his breathing to even out. He could still savour the aftertaste of Douglas’ orgasm on his tongue. Strangely enough, it didn’t repel him anymore. It was all part of the loving experience, he guessed. Like the smell of Douglas’ cock or the feel of his own cheek against sweaty skin, just now.

“Hmm, Martin… that was superb,” Douglas heaved a contented sigh, sounding rather breathless himself. “Quite the expert, sir.”

Martin shyly licked his lips at the compliment, the inevitable blush blooming in stages from his chest to his cheeks. Shortly after, though, when the warm glow began to fade, his old worries sneakily returned. Being here – the sex, the cuddling, the closeness – it meant so much to him. But what about Douglas? How many of his lady friends had slept in the very same bed, thinking they were special? Did what just had happened between them matter to him at all?

With women, Douglas would never lay back, lazily, letting them work for it. Imagine Douglas holding the beautiful Helena down with both hands, while she was pleasuring him with her mouth. Martin snorted inadvertently at the absurd thought. No, that sort of treatment was reserved for him alone. What they did together was… hot. Martin believed that even Douglas thought so. But with a real lover – that is a woman – wouldn’t he behave much more gentlemanlike? 

At this moment, he felt strong arms encircling him and he was heaved upwards. Quickly Martin got to his knees and slid forwards the rumpled bedclothes. With a little sigh, he laid down next to Douglas, resting his head on his shoulder.

“Good. You seemed a bit lonely down there,” Douglas murmured, tugging him close. Smiling, Martin inhaled the well-known scent as he nestled against his chest. Maybe he’d been unjust to Douglas. When he put his mind to it, he could be very affectionate. Silently, they let their hands roam about each other’s bodies. Kissing wet, sloppy kisses, now and then. 

“So, how was Duxford?” Douglas asked after a while, never stopping rubbing Martin’s back. “You’ve never told me.”

“Duxford?” Martin let the word drop out sleepily, rather hoping that Douglas would let it go. They hadn’t breached the topic for over a week. “Nothing special. Just some aeroplanes.” 

That wasn’t true, obviously. But Douglas had been prickly about the trip right from the start. Restlessly Martin shifted his head and stared out of the window. Dusk was setting in. He closed his eyes for a moment, considering. “The Concorde was great. We could even sit in the flight deck.”

“Ah, Captain Crieff putting her through her paces,” Douglas drawled, chuckling. “I hope your princess was impressed.” 

“Theresa, it’s Theresa,” Martin corrected him automatically. “And no. I mean… I let her, you know, the left seat.” He swallowed nervously. 

“You did what?” Douglas thundered. “What about being the supreme commander of the vessel?”

“That’s different,” Martin stammered. He should have known that Douglas wouldn’t let it go. Resigned he wriggled out of the embrace and sat up. He could not discuss matters of rank while lying entwined naked. ”I am a captain in real life. I do not need to be a pretend one.”

“That’s very mature of you,” Douglas murmured, but he wouldn’t look at him. Instead he started rummaging for his clothes that were scattered all over the bed and floor. In the heat of the moment, they’d taken no time to put them away properly.

“I hope so. Y-You probably know best that I’m not insisting on protocol just for forms sake.” Martin leaned uncomfortably against the headboard. In his mind he went back to the conversation with Theresa at the Concorde; everything had sounded so plausible then. ”She… Theresa understands that. Contrary to my first officer, she respects me,” he finished with more heat than intended. 

“Ah.” Douglas didn’t sound too impressed. But then, regarding his captaincy or Theresa, he never was. 

“She… she is a girl,” Martin ploughed on. This was rather difficult to convey, especially with Douglas so distracted, only paying minimum attention. It made Martin’s words sound hollow. “It’s like you and your Helena. Theresa thinks that I’m… well, maybe not terrific… but that I’m somebody at least. A professional airline captain.” 

Blushing, Martin clamped his mouth shut, even if it was the truth. When he was with her, his views actually mattered. It made him feel cherished. And in Duxford people – other men, really – had been looking envious. They didn’t even know that she was a princess. God, it was all so very different from his relationship with Douglas. 

“I see. That must have been very good for you.” 

Martin looked up at the flat tone, realising that Douglas had got out of bed. Just now he was putting his trousers back on, his large body a dark silhouette against the setting sun. Martin felt very naked, all of a sudden. Hastily he reached for the duvet.

“So, will you see her again?” Douglas asked almost casually as he buttoned up his shirt. It had wrinkles all over, but he didn’t seem to notice.

Anxiously Martin watched him dressing, the slightly off taste from the blowjob he’d given earlier still lingering in his mouth. He had no idea why Douglas was in such a hurry. It wasn’t like him. “Well, of course. She expects it. She hugged me goodbye.” 

“She did what, Martin? And you let her?” Douglas bellowed, all pretence at nonchalance apparently forgotten. 

Martin’s heart jumped at the roar. Then he saw the hurt in his lover’s eyes and his chest constricted in an inexplicable surge of panic. God, he didn’t mean to upset Douglas. It was all a misunderstanding. They both knew that Theresa had just been friendly. 

“Douglas, I really have no idea what the fuss is all about,” Martin started babbling, the words tumbling uncontrollably out of his mouth. “I couldn’t go with you… you said so yourself. It wouldn’t have been the same... and I’m sure you would like her. She’s very understanding.” He paused to catch his breath. 

“Is she, now?” Douglas scoffed, but he didn’t seem to listen anymore. He stared at Martin, his gaze unfathomable.

“Douglas?” Martin asked in a high-pitched voice. He didn’t like the looming silence. It reminded him too much of their awful fight on the flight to Qikiqtarjuaq. 

“Martin, tell you what,” Douglas spoke calmly now. Although his otherwise so expressive voice had lost any inflection. “You’ll go on this date with Theresa. You’ll see where it gets you. No strings from me. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity to date a princess.”

“What do you mean?” Martin was standing up, too, scrambling for his clothes. He couldn’t bear to be the only one naked. 

“It means we’ll cool down a bit. Until you know what you want.” Douglas took a deep breath, never breaking eye contact. 

“But I know what I want,” Martin wailed, fighting with his socks. “You made fun of it, too. Bobsleds and all.”

“Well yes,” Douglas said composed. Rather set in his way. “I also pretend to drink Vodka. It doesn’t mean a thing.”

And with that, everything fell into place, letting Martin’s insides freeze. Then the trembling started and panic was welling up in waves, flooding his consciousness. Because Douglas was shutting him out, again, without an explanation.

“Douglas, wait!” Martin had taken a step towards him, to stop him… to stop this madness somehow. Theresa didn’t stand between them. Nobody did, and especially not she. If Douglas only could see it. But hadn’t it been always like this, Martin thought desperately. Their relationship, the sex, whatever they did together, it counted for nothing. 

Slowly, like moving underwater, Martin began searching for the rest of his clothes. Despite all the wheezing and shaking, it didn’t take him long to put them on. Then he had a last look around, studiously avoiding Douglas’ gaze, rather afraid of what he might find in his familiar eyes. 

“OK, I-I’ll be off.” Martin didn’t trust his voice to say any more. Gaze trained straight ahead, he stalked out of the room. Thank god, he’d never come around leaving much of his stuff here. Even his toothbrush was one of Douglas spares; he could keep it for all he cared. 

Furiously Martin rubbed his eyes to hold back the angry tears. He knew he loved Douglas, had known it for weeks, in fact. But it was no use. Because if Douglas cared at all, or if Martin was some pretty girl at least, Douglas would never have let him go like this.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place during the episode Xinzhou and I borrowed a few lines of John Finnemore's brilliant dialogue for it. Everything you recognise is not mine.

_Xinzhou airport, two weeks later_

The snowball hit Martin square in the chest. His initial shock of Douglas actually starting a snowball fight was quickly replaced by the sharp pain and prickling sensation of ice touching bare skin. Then the generously sized ball disintegrated, and parts of its slushy remains began to move straight down Martin's collar. Soon rivulets of melting ice, interspersed by tiny frozen bits, were soaking his shirt, leaving his skin wet. Unsurprisingly, Douglas' aim had been flawless. 

"I did know you were going to do that." Martin stared defiantly at his ex-lover. All around, the snow was falling down in thick, heavy flakes, covering Xinzhou airport with a white blanket. Solely G-ERTI was standing luminescent on the otherwise deserted tarmac. 

"And yet you didn't duck," Douglas stated. 

Blame it on the enchanting winter wonderland, but suddenly Martin felt the childish urge to jump Douglas and tackle him down, until they were both rolling in the snow, panting. With an impatient flick of his head, he tried to chase the tempting image away as he bent down to test the integrity of the snow. "Yes, but look: if you just scoop it lightly..."

Another ball caught him unawares. Ignoring the cold, Martin grabbed a huge lump of snow with his bare hands, formed it haphazardly, and threw. It was oddly satisfying watching the impact of his snowball on Douglas' face, leaving him speechless and spluttering for once.

And then there he was, tackling and shoving, until Martin lost his balance, toppling over and landing with a soft thud. The next instant, Douglas was upon him, his cheeks reddened and damp from the snow, as he pinned him down in one smooth movement. At the last moment he stopped, hesitance in his eyes. Martin however, still flying high on the endorphins of the fight, pulled him down into a deep kiss. 

Their teeth almost crashed, both impatient for the wet and hungry kiss. In seconds, Martin felt all his carefully contained memories rushing back as they pressed against each other and licked and sucked and bit; the familiar weight of Douglas' body, his taste on Martin's tongue. But then, they heard Carolyn approaching, and, as soon as it had begun, it was all over again as they abruptly had to let go. 

Feeling oddly bereft, Martin got up and brushed off his uniform. For form's sake, he scooped up another chunk of snow and examined it studiously, all the while avoiding his first officer's gaze. Silently he admitted that Douglas had probably been right about its general superior quality. Because the few precious seconds lying buried in it had felt like heaven.

"So everyone back on. We're flying tonight!" Douglas shooed them all in, seemingly unruffled.

Martin rather envied him for his countenance, feeling more than a little jittery himself. As he stumbled up the slippery gangway, he could still sense the soft imprint of Douglas' lips on his. The kiss, the snow, the freezing cold now rapidly turning into heat, it all gave the last few minutes a weird and wonderful air of unreality. 

And it wasn't just this attack today, Martin pondered as he rummaged in his flight bag for a towel, but Douglas' overall behaviour since their recent break-up. The last two weeks, Douglas had been acting rather concerned than dismissive, even inviting Martin to his house from time to time, as if he still cared. Strangely enough, it had resulted in a delicate truce between them. Moreover, it was the reason why Martin, despite the depressing absence of sex, hadn't given up hope. 

However, up until now, he didn't dare calling Douglas in on it, too much afraid of pushing his luck. Still lost in thought, Martin shook off the last remnants of snow as he slid into the captain's seat, listening only half-heartedly to Douglas requesting clearance for take-off. 

***

Martin was watching Douglas out of the corner of his eye ever since it had become apparent that they would spend the night on the plane. Just now, his first officer was examining the rows of worn out seats in front of him. In fact, they were all standing in the aisle, pale cabin lights on, discussing their sleeping arrangements. 

Martin risked another glance. He knew it was ridiculous thanking fate for being stuck on their plane in the middle of a snowstorm, but nevertheless, he couldn't suppress a shiver of excitement. Douglas, outwardly calm and collected, might make another move tonight, improbable as it seemed with Arthur and Carolyn so close by. 

Just to occupy himself, Martin went to search the emergency kits for blankets. He ignored his hammering heart as he squeezed past Douglas, touching him for the first time since Carolyn broke up their snowball fight. When he returned, the others were still arguing. So Martin started pulling the seats back, automatically choosing two adjourning ones in the front row. It would leave Douglas enough room to sprawl out. 

"Well, much as I adore a slumber party, I think I'll just sit in the flight deck and read, actually. I thought I was operating tonight. I've had three coffees." Douglas' irritated voice startled Martin right out of his daydream. 

He glanced at his carefully prepared seats and his heart sank. Did he get it all wrong? Out there in the cold, tumbling in the snow, Martin thought they had an understanding. So why did Douglas keep insisting on sitting in the flight deck, all alone? He wasn't such an avid reader; Martin knew that for sure from their brief span together. Or did he rather expect him to join him in the flight deck? They could close the door, get some privacy. But no, they had to sleep... 

With an edge of desperation, Martin measured the distance from the first row of seats to the flight deck door with his eyes. It was far too big. If Douglas went through with his absurd plan, they could just as well stay in separate hotel rooms, for all that it mattered. 

"Well, we both have to get at least five hours' sleep, or we'll be out of hours to fly tomorrow," he said aloud, defiantly staring at Douglas before quickly looking down. Even if nothing happened between them, night's rest was a legal requirement.

"Yes, all right." 

Martin's head shot up at the mellow tone and their eyes met for seconds, Douglas' look unreadable. Then the man abruptly turned and started rummaging in the flight deck locker. Martin slumped down in the nearest seat, watching him from behind. He had absolutely no idea what was going on, but, thank God, they had the whole night to figure it out. 

All of a sudden, Martin noticed his rumbling stomach. He flashed a small smile at Arthur, feeling ravenous, even for baby food. 

***

Much later, they were lying in the dark, close, but not too close, as they listened for Carolyn and Arthur's breathing to even out. It had been quite a while since their last round of fizz buzz or Arthur singsonging 'here I am don't tread on me'. The only sound was the steady humming of the APU.

"So, Martin, how was it really at the Taj Mahal?" Douglas suddenly broke the silence. 

"It was nice, like I said, very nice... She is nice," Martin stuttered, staring at the ceiling. Mentally he breathed a sigh of relief that Douglas hadn't gone to sleep like the others. 

"Well, good for you, then," Douglas returned without much inflection, apparently waiting for more. 

"Erm, it was a bit awkward, too," Martin admitted after a while. He rolled onto his side and watched Douglas in the blue emergency light. "All those royals. Half the time, I didn't even know what to say. God, I'm sure you would've loved it there," he finished glumly. 

"No, I perfectly understand," Douglas muttered. 

Martin searched his face for the usual signs of teasing but found none. So he went on, "She kept telling people that I'm a captain. And then they asked which regiment. And I may have mentioned my... my... Cadet Forces Medal. And later on... the Star of Liechtenstein." 

Quickly Martin looked away, glad that Douglas couldn't see his blush in the faint light. Theresa had laughed it all off, used to aristocrats and dignitaries alike. But he'd rather been back at the run-down Indian hotel Carolyn had provided for them in Delhi, than spending another hour around these people. 

"Did you?" Douglas chuckled. "Don't worry. I'm sure, in due course, the royal house of Liechtenstein will do something more substantial for you." 

"What do you mean?" 

But before Martin could expand on Douglas' cryptic remark, there was a creaking sound, as if something heavy was turning in the age-worn seats, and then a warm body pressed against him. "Come on, captain, don't let them trouble you," Douglas murmured, hot breath brushing Martin's still damp shirt-collar, sending goosebumps down his neck and chest.

Now it was Martin's turn to rustle and shift, until they were both lying flush against each other, touching. So he had been right. All those little glances, the snowball fight, their aborted kiss on the snow-covered tarmac. Martin took a deep breath, then let it go again, almost too afraid to ask. "Douglas... are we... are we back together?" 

For the first time, Douglas seemed lost for words.

Willing himself to lie still, Martin listened to the harsh breathing next to him. When he finally turned his head, he saw his first officer scrutinising him with flickering eyes. "What about Theresa?" Douglas ground out at last. 

Theresa, not her again. Angry and confused, Martin turned away from him and settled onto his side, staring out of the opposite window. Why did every single conversation they had these days have to lead up to her? It made no sense at all. 

Silently, Douglas adjusted himself to the new position. Then he enveloped Martin with his arms and tightened the grip, spooning him from behind.

Almost against his will, Martin leaned into the warmth and nestled in the crook of the familiar body like he had done countless times before. After several minutes of wallowing in bittersweet memories, he whispered, "I have no idea what you want this time, Douglas, but I can't do it anymore. Just now you're all affectionate, but in a day or two you'll be walking out on me again. It simply hurts too much." Shivering, he squeezed his eyes shut in a futile attempt to block out reality. 

"I don't understand," Douglas rasped, never loosening his grip. "Did you two break up? Is this why you've been so miserable lately? I'm so sorry, Martin". The last bit was uttered in an unbelievably soft tone.

"God, you really don't understand," Martin cut him short. He freed himself in a brusque movement from Douglas' hold and sat up. "When did I ever give the impression that I wanted a relationship with Theresa? I'm gay." 

"Shh, Martin! The others," Douglas shooed, trying to pull him down again. 

Irritated Martin fended him off, though he reduced his volume to a low hiss. "Is that what's wrong with me? That I don't care for women. So you can't pretend that it's all a little romp between friends. Because for me it is not. I do care..." 

"What for heaven's sake makes you think that I don't care?" Douglas bellowed without warning, Carolyn's and Arthur's presence completely forgotten. "I let you sleep in my house, I cook for you... I..."

"Yes, but..." Martin trailed off, speechless. Wasn't that how he treated all of his lovers? With the famous Richardson charm, tried by countless stewardesses. Why should he of all people be special?

"...and I even let you go, so that you are free to date a real girl. Because I don't want to be the one who mucks up your one and only chance of marrying a princess," Douglas concluded bitterly.

Martin just stared. "You... you send me away, because of her?" he asked abashed. Overwhelmed by feelings of amazement and wonder, but mostly plain relief, he slid down the seat, shaking. "Douglas..." he whispered.

"God, Martin, we've both been idiots." Douglas was muttering to himself. Then, unsteadily, he got up, scrambled over to Martin's seat and pulled him on top of him.

With a sigh, Martin leaned in and snuggled up to his broad chest, breaths mingling, lips touching. Seconds later, though, he started struggling again, abandoning the kiss. Because he had to know. 

"Douglas, does that mean...?" Martin broke off, too tense to go on. Then he gathered up his courage once more and whispered, "Douglas, do you love me?"


	7. Chapter 7

"Do you love me?" 

The question was still resonating in Martin's head as he anxiously searched Douglas' upturned face for an answer. Had he misread the signs so badly?

"Good Lord, Martin." Douglas stared at him in wonder. "Yes... yes, of course I do. I love you. Perhaps more than you are aware of." The last bit was uttered in a mere whisper. 

"I-I too," Martin stammered, heart pounding. He felt like something gigantic was trying to perform summersaults in his stomach. Douglas loved him. He really did. Martin wanted to say something, ask... but then Douglas was pulling him into a crushing hug and words failed him. 

"Douglas, I..." Martin tried again after a while of fervent kissing. "Your wife. I-I know I can't compete with her or the others, but I swear I'll do my best." He fell silent, out of his depth, because he had no idea what on earth he could promise. Was there anything special he had to give? 

"Martin," Douglas sighed exasperatedly, albeit tightening his grip. "I haven't the foggiest, what my wife has to do with anything. It's not as if she is here now or will ever be again." He pointed back and forth between the two of them.

"No, you're right, never mind," Martin murmured. Belatedly he realised that this might not be the right time for his self-doubts. But he didn't want to screw this up, now that they were finally talking. And it was so hard to focus with Douglas' lips near his own. Martin turned his head a fraction. On the other side, Arthur was slumbering peacefully in the aisle, smiling in his sleep. Feeling oddly reassured at the sight, Martin settled into Douglas' arms, just watching for a while. 

When he remained silent, Douglas resumed stroking him, moving his hands gently across his chest and belly. Now he was dipping his fingers into the tiny space between collar and neck, lingering there. Martin's breath hitched at the tender contact with his sensitive skin. It felt so good. When Douglas started unbuttoning his shirt with expert fingers, he was shifting in his seat, aware of his growing erection. 

"I don't know if this is sensible," Martin ventured helplessly. Then again, he didn't want Douglas to stop right now. They were just back together, and Douglas had said that he loved him. Swallowing hard, Martin glanced at Arthur, who seemed to be soundly asleep. Then he scrambled in his seat and turned his half-naked chest towards his lover. 

Chuckling, Douglas swept the shirttails out of his way and started caressing him in little circles until his palms reached the sensitive nipples. Which were already standing upright and hard from the cool conditioned air. Martin shivered at the merest touch. Suddenly Douglas flicked his fingers back and forth and Martin gripped the armrests hard, moaning softly.

"Hmm, you like that," Douglas murmured pleased. Without warning he descended his mouth and engulfed one little red bud into wet heat. 

"Douglas, oh..." Martin stiffened as a prickling sensation built up and then spread out all over his body. Unconsciously he straightened himself to increase the friction. After a while, Douglas let go with a soft kiss and moved across his chest to lick and suck at the other nipple. God, he'd never imagined that Douglas' tongue could feel this good. He was sure that he could come from this alone.

"Douglas, please stop, I don't want to. Not like that." Feeling oddly exposed, Martin turned away and tried to cover his wetted nipples with his hands. 

"Oh, come here. No need to hide." Gently Douglas got hold of Martin's fingers and eased them away from his chest. Then he reached for the loosely hanging shirt and tugged him towards him. Tentatively Martin looped his arms around the huge body. When he sensed an answering pull, he leaned in and nestled his cheek against the crisp cloth of Douglas' uniform shirt. 

Time seemed to stand still as they were holding tight in the darkness, squeezed together in one of the passenger seats, listening to each other's heartbeats. Vaguely, Martin registered an armrest poking into his back. He ignored it, too anxious to break the mood. Strangely, Douglas didn't move, either, just exhaling deeply against his temple. 

And suddenly it hit Martin. He could feel it in the harsh breathing next to him, in the broad hands that refused to let go. Tonight wasn't just about him. No, Douglas needed this, too. Douglas, who had actually believed that he would leave him for a princess. Martin almost froze as he tried to imagine the misery his lover had gone through. Then, with a soft sigh, he shifted and, timidly at first, began stroking Douglas' back and sides. 

"Hmmm, yes," Douglas hummed, leaning into Martin's touch like a contented cat. After a few minutes of soft caressing, he halted and gently urged him away, just to capture his lips for a languid kiss. Soon his hands were everywhere, rubbing, kneading, teasing. Martin smiled inwardly. He should have known that Douglas wouldn't stay passive for long.

Squirming and gasping, they quickly ended up kneeling in front of the seats, peeling each others clothes away. When Douglas reached for Martin's uniform trousers, he briefly paused, searching his gaze for permission. Instead of an answer Martin pressed his erection back against his palm and a smile flitted across Douglas' face. Wasting no time, he undid belt buckle and fly. Martin stilled as probing fingers slipped inside his waistband, touching bare skin. Then Douglas let his hands slide down Martin's boxers, seizing his arse in a possessive gesture. 

Martin's mouth went dry. It wasn't for the first time Douglas touched him like this. But so far Martin had always ignored the unspoken implication. Penetration. It wasn't the act per se. He'd done it before. Not often, but nevertheless. It wasn't even that he believed it to be exclusively for a committed relationship. No, the reason was quite simple. He had no idea how to look Douglas into the eyes afterwards. 

"Well, we never have..." Douglas murmured, as if reading Martin's mind. He let the sentence hang unfinished between them. When Martin didn't answer, his fingers became even more insistent, boldly stroking down the crease of his arse.

"W-We're on the plane. Carolyn and Arthur, what if they woke up, while we're..." Martin gulped. He shot a panicky glance at Carolyn, who was lying sprawled out in one of the back-rows. Her ribcage was rising and falling in rhythmic intervals. 

"Well, if the snoring is anything to go by," Douglas made a theatrical pause. Slowly he pulled his fingers out of Martin's boxers and started rubbing up his spine.

Hastily Martin grabbed his trousers to prevent them from sliding down as both of them listened to the not so subtle chortling sounds of their fellow crewmembers. His heart was beating fast. Sleeping together - that was what real lovers did, wasn't it? "We don't have any l-lube," he blurted. 

"There is always the hand cream in your flight-bag," Douglas whispered into his ear, hands wandering downwards again. He looked at him questioningly. 

Martin just nodded. Then he slumped wobbly into the nearest seat as he watched Douglas marching off towards the flight deck. Good God, their first time, on G-ERTI. The familiar place suddenly appeared almost surreal. Outside the snowfall had lessened, which meant that they'd be able to fly off tomorrow. At that, a hysterical fit of laughter threatened to overwhelm him as he envisioned what they were about to do. 

All too soon Douglas was back. For a moment, they were just standing, looking at each other and Martin's stomach lurched with anticipation. He had never seen such tenderness in Douglas' eyes. With unexpected clarity, he realised that this was it. It was actually going to happen. He began to shiver. 

"How do you wish to do it?" Douglas asked softly.

"M-Me on the front, you behind," Martin whispered, glancing at the cream jar and condoms. "And if you're wondering, I've done it before and I liked it. With one of my bobsled members." Shakily he pulled his trousers down and climbed onto the seat next to the aisle. He had to shuffle a bit, until he found a comfortable position, kneeling, his arse bare and his shirt hanging open. From Douglas he could make out the faint rustling of clothing.

"Martin...relax..." Muttering under his breath, Douglas closed the short distance between them and softly enveloped him from behind. Dazed, Martin realised that Douglas had unbuttoned his shirt, as well. He unbend and leaned back against his bare skin. Chuckling, Douglas pressed closer and dropped a series of wet kisses along his collarbone and neck. 

Martin braced himself against the backrest. Just now, Douglas' hands were sliding slowly down his ribcage, until he was sporting goosebumps all over. Helplessly, he tried to keep still, to savour the moment, but his lower parts had their own ideas. When Douglas finally let go and cupped his squirming arse, Martin heaved a sigh of relief, pushing back. 

"Hmmm, my captain, so eager..." Douglas cooed. He parted the cheeks and playfully brushed against his entrance, probing and breaching. 

Martin held his breath as first one, then two slick fingers pushed in. Absently, he noted that Douglas must have used a generous amount of cream. For an absurd moment, Martin was grateful that it wasn't scented. Imagine the others smelling it in the morning. Then he determinedly blanked his mind and just concentrated on the exquisite feel. All of a sudden, he couldn't wait. "Please, Douglas, more... now," he begged.

"Shh, Martin, patience," Douglas shooed and dropped some light kisses on his neck. The next moment, he cautiously withdrew his hand. The loss was instantaneous. Martin opened his mouth to complain. But then he heard a foil rustling and the squishing sounds of Douglas coating his cock with cream. He turned his head.

For seconds, their eyes met. Douglas nodded almost imperceptibly and, mesmerized, Martin watched as he positioned his hard cock against his entrance. Both of them stilled. "Douglas...Yes," Martin breathed.

At first there was pain. Martin remembered that feeling from before. But Douglas just waited patiently, smoothing his hands over his hips until something inside of him gave way and, slowly but firmly, the cock went deeper. Breathing hard, Martin willed himself to relax. Soon, it wasn't just bearing anymore, no, he could feel it in the prickling of his cock, his balls, his slick hole, the overpowering sensation of Douglas filling him, sliding in and out almost unimpeded. 

And Martin pushed back, urging him on, only now realising that he'd been waiting for this all along. Nothing could feel more right. Douglas, sensing his need, didn't hesitate and let go, his thrusts becoming rapidly quicker and deeper. Whimpering, Martin hold onto the backrest as if his life depended on it, his aching cock deliciously trapped between the upholstery and his writhing body. 

Desperately, he squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his mouth into his folded arms as the world around him started to crumble. The plane, the airport, the others snoring, all those misunderstandings - becoming meaningless. Suddenly and overwhelmingly, it was just Douglas and him, moving, pushing, gasping; finally, as if of one body. And then, a tender hand was touching him, wrapping around his hard cock. Just a few strokes and he was breaking, as was Douglas, shuddering behind him, pumping into him, coming together for the very first time. 

Gasping for air, they collapsed onto the seat, merely clinging to each other, a few minutes of pure bliss. Then, silently moving about in the darkness, they put their clothes back on and cleaned up as good as possible. 

Shivering, they lay down again, squeezed together in a front row seat. After a while, Martin realised that Douglas was stroking him tenderly, as if he was something fragile. And maybe he was. Because his whole body was tingling and his arse was burning. One tiny thing was bothering him, though. 

"Douglas, what we've just done... the sex... I cannot be your wife," Martin whispered urgently.

"Well, you're right. That might sound a bit silly," Douglas muttered back, his voice muffled but unperturbed. He slightly stirred and dropped a light kiss on Martin's exposed nape. "What about partners instead?" he enquired gently.

"Oh." Martin twisted in the limited space of the seating to catch another kiss. "I would like that." 

"Good, it's settled then." With that, Douglas resumed stroking him in every place he could reach.

Silently Martin snuggled against his chest, inwardly glowing. Douglas wanted to be partners with him. It was almost too good to be true. Partners... who told each other things... who were equal... who loved each other... 

"Douglas, do you really love me?"

"Well, Martin, what do you think we've just been doing? Making love?" Douglas whispered into his ear, stressing the last word deliberately.

"Oh, that's right." Martin hadn't looked at it that way. But if Douglas said so, it must be true. He nodded dreamily as he nestled closer.

"But, Martin, I think it's about time that you tell her." Douglas' no nonsense voice propelled him back to reality. 

"What? To whom?" he asked bewildered. 

"Your friend Theresa," Douglas returned patiently. "Tell her that you are in a committed relationship with someone else."


	8. Chapter 8

It was another fine day, the bright autumn sun shimmering through the blinds, brilliant and clear, when Martin woke up comfortably snuggled up under the covers of Douglas' spacious bed. Amazed he stretched and opened his eyes as he admired his new home. It wasn't really that. But Douglas had made room for his flight manuals on the bookshelf next to the detective novels, and now the majority of his clothes were hanging in Douglas' second wardrobe. 

When they had finally arrived at Fitton airfield after their trip to Xinzhou the day before yesterday, Douglas had insisted on driving to Parkside Terrace, muttering something about making Martin feel more at home. They had packed a carton full of his belongings then and there. 

Well, it was only sensible. After the awkwardness in the presence of his housemates - the embarrassing incident with Danny was still burnt into Martin's mind - the student home didn't seem like the best place for them to stay. Most of his bulkier stuff, like the computer with the flight-simulator, hadn't been moved, yet, but up until now Martin hadn't missed a thing.

"Hurry up, breakfast is ready," Douglas was calling out from the kitchen. 

Still sleepy, Martin got up, put his old dressing gown on and padded towards the compelling voice. There was a cup of freshly brewed coffee waiting for him on the worktop. Eagerly he reached for it, relishing the heat spreading to his hands and fingertips, before he took a careful sip. Douglas was busy ladling eggs on two plates. To celebrate Martin moving in, as he'd promised earlier when he'd woken him up with a kiss. Martin found it terrific. 

"So, do you still want me to come with you?" Douglas asked, once they had settled down at the breakfast table. He sounded serious. 

"She said that she wanted to get to know you properly," Martin returned just as earnestly, feeling a stir of excitement in his stomach. They were both going to meet Theresa at Croydon Airport Visitors' Centre today. It would be their first 'official' outing as a couple, too. Martin had phoned her yesterday, trying to explain everything. Thank God, she'd been really understanding. 

Douglas grunted something but otherwise looked rather complacent.

"Erm... good." Martin nodded. Then he sat up straight, shooting a nervous glance at his lover. There was something he had to ask, as well. "What about the other thing we were talking about in Xinzhou? Swiss Airways, d-do you think I should apply?" 

He held his breath as Douglas shoved his empty plate aside and sipped his coffee. Thoughtfully he scrutinized Martin, his dark eyes solemn for once. "Well, I believe you do," he replied at last. 

"B-But what about us?" Martin exclaimed. 

"Ah, I see, captain, you're very self-assured that you'll get the job." Now Douglas was teasing him, a warm smile flitting across his face. "No, seriously, you've always been dreaming of working for a major airline. You should apply. We're partners, remember. We'll find a way." 

"T-Thank you, I suppose we will." Tentatively Martin returned the smile. Oddly enough, it all had become so much easier, since they had actually started talking to each other.

***

Like their last time at Duxford, Theresa was already waiting at the entrance, a solitary figure standing in front of the neo-classical building of historical Croydon Airport. Douglas quietly took Martin's hand. It was such a small gesture, but a proprietorial one nonetheless, and Martin felt a sudden surge of joy. 

This was another benefit of them finally talking. Martin had confided how insecure he often felt since they didn't touch in public, and now Douglas was making sure to leave him in no doubt of his affection.

When they came nearer, Theresa seemed a bit strained, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other. But maybe that was just the light; because when they were face to face her demeanour appeared perfectly composed. A real princess.

Martin drew a slow breath. "Theresa, this is my p-partner Douglas," he introduced, for the first time feeling nervous around her. They all shook hands rather formerly. Then Theresa looked expectantly at the two men, apparently waiting for more.

"And I'm really sorry for what happened... that I didn't tell you before," Martin rushed on. At a look at her delicate features, the eyes wide open and vulnerable, he suddenly broke off, relapsing into tense silence. How on earth could he believe that this was easy?

"Well, when you didn't want to share a hotel room in Agra, that was a bit of a hint," Theresa remarked wryly, but looking sad all the same. "I think I've been hoping that you were just shy." 

"I am shy," Martin insisted. 

Douglas raised an eyebrow at that and Martin blushed.

"No, really. Please believe me!" Martin implored, panic welling up. He didn't want to lose her friendship over this. "I've never met anybody who..." 

"...who loved talking about aeroplanes that much. It's okay, Martin. I actually do love that," Theresa said with a resigned little smile. "Shall we go inside, now?" 

"Well, yes. No. Wait!" Martin exclaimed in a high-pitched voice, remaining frozen on the spot. "Theresa, this is not about planes!"

"Your Highness, I second that." Douglas suddenly interjected, speaking up for the first time. "I confess that I've even been a tad jealous, given how much he's been talking about you." 

Theresa turned and gazed at him, some of the tension leaving her thin frame. "And he talked about you. A lot," she admitted ruefully. "Well, I assumed he was just having problems with his older colleague." 

"Oh, he did have," Douglas asserted in a serious tone. "As I said, I was jealous and I might have acted a bit rash."

"Understatement of the year," Martin grumbled as he recalled how miserable he had been at the Taj Mahal. 

"But in mysterious ways your interference helped me realising how much he means to me," Douglas continued, unperturbed by Martin's outburst. He laid an arm around his boyfriend's shoulder and squeezed gently. "I am grateful for that." 

Taken off-guard by the seriousness and affection in Douglas' voice, Martin quickly looked down, a deep blush blooming on his cheeks. 

"Well," Douglas carried on smoothly, "I'll leave you now for a little chat. Don't be to hard on him." He winked at Theresa. "I'll get the tickets. My treat."

For a short moment, both of them watched mesmerized as Douglas gradually disappeared from view. Then they were truly alone, and the initial companionable silence began stretching to the point of awkwardness when neither of them knew what to say. Standing close to her, Martin noticed for the first time the small patches under Theresa's beautiful eyes. As if she hadn't slept well last night. 

"It's okay, Martin, please don't worry," Theresa muttered after a moment, sensing his distress. "You've explained it all. And in India it became clear that you weren't happy." 

"God, I was an idiot. All theses dates. I didn't realise what was going on until... until Douglas told me so," Martin confessed, the words finally spilling out of his mouth. "How could I? No one as nice as you had ever fallen in love with me. Usually people think I'm boring." He looked beseechingly at her. 

"Not much of a Don Juan, are you?" Theresa teased gently. "Just tell me one thing. You and Douglas, are you happy now?" 

"Yes...yes I believe we are," Martin stuttered, feeling unaccountably shy. "Sometimes it isn't easy, but... well..." he trailed off, unsure about what to reveal. Last night, they had made love again. Properly, like they had done on G-ERTI. He smiled sheepishly. 

"Well, I think it's obvious that I never stood a chance," Theresa said, smiling despite of herself at his smitten expression. There was kindness in her eyes. 

Startled Martin looked at her. "Please, don't say that!" he implored. "All the things I said to you were true. You are special to me. I've never had a friend like you." 

"T-Thank you, Martin, that means much to me," she returned earnestly. "In fact, I think you're pretty special, too." 

At this moment, Martin felt a heavy weight inside of him rapidly crumbling until nothing was left. Tentatively he took her hand. "Friends?" 

"Friends," Theresa repeated, her usual warm smile playing around her lips. "You see there aren't many airline captains like you." 

"Really? Do you think so?" Martin asked hopefully, still holding tight. 

"Well, yes," Theresa replied cheekily. "Who else would rescue me from a dragon?" 

Grinning, Martin let go of her hand and pulled her into a big hug. "Anytime," he promised solemnly. "That's what friends are for."

 

The End


End file.
